


when we are together

by resonant_aura



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Fluff, Multi, down time fic, hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 04:48:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7877182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/resonant_aura/pseuds/resonant_aura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brief glimpse of how Keyleth, Vax and Gilmore spend their evening after the most recent harrowing event at Whitestone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when we are together

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All the people and places you recognize are the intellectual property of their respective creators--Liam O'Brien, Marisha Ray, Taliesin Jaffe and Matthew Mercer, all part of Geek & Sundry’s fantastic webstream show Critical Role.
> 
> Bless these three I just can't leave them alone. Also, hand holding.

It’s not that they didn’t have anything better to do. It’s that this was the best thing to do.

The council—for surely this gathering of unique, gifted, possibly insane individuals was as close to a council as this continent would see for some time yet—disbanded, plans in place, ideas still floating in the air, and Keyleth slid her hand across Vax’s arm before he could disappear. “Let’s go see him,” she murmured beneath the low chatter in the room.

“But—he’s sure to be busy, and we have to—”

“No,” she replied. Her voice was soft as daisy petals but he knew better than to argue. So they went.

Whitestone was, as castles went, fairly impressive. Once upon a time, perhaps, before trade and geography and time rendered it obsolete, it might have been the capital of a great kingdom. Now it was a maze of pale halls pocked with dark doors and rippling with torchlight from the sconces. Vax already knew which door belonged to Gilmore’s room, and Keyleth didn’t bother to ask.

Vax knocked gently on the door. Coming from him, that was the sweetest gesture he could have made.

No reply.

She didn’t need a spell for this. “I know where he is,” Keyleth said, and took Vax by the hand as they wound their way back through the maze, down the stairs, past the great halls and dining halls and libraries and studies, and then back up the stairs again to the parapet that wound around the castle walls. They found a spot (once there was blood here, but the stone gleamed and sparkled as if nothing had ever happened here) where the rampart overlooked a sheer cliff and beyond it to the dark evergreen woods, and there, indeed, stood Gilmore.

He looked wearier than ever.

“Gilmore,” Keyleth called. Vax squeezed her hand in his, and she squeezed back. The wizard did not turn to acknowledge them, lost as he was in his thoughts as his eyes scanned the treetops beyond.

Vax slid his hand from Keyleth’s grip and stepped up behind Gilmore, standing beside him with just barely a breath of space between them. “Gil,” he breathed. He watched silently as a wind kicked up, blowing the dense dark curls of Gilmore’s hair over his face, obscuring his profile. The wind settled, and when Gilmore’s profile again appeared his dark eyes were trained unblinking on Vax’s.

They said nothing. Vax opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and closed it again. He was never good at this.

“You saved them,” said Keyleth suddenly, from Gilmore’s other side. She leaned into the wall of the parapet, her arms braced and fingers loosely clasped where they hung over the edge. “You saved the city. All those people—they could have been frozen to death today, Gilmore, but you protected them. Thank you.”

Gilmore was slow to speak, but eventually he did. “You both have always given me too much credit,” he murmured, words whipped away by the fickle wind. “Allura, Drake Thunderbrand, Pike, even your friends Zahra and Kashaw—they did much more than me.”

“Don’t say that—”

“It’s true,” Gilmore cut Vax off, voice warm, eyes crinkled with self-deprecating laughter. “I’m only a merchant, my dear. I have skills, to be sure, but I was never cut out to be a hero. I never even particularly wanted to be. You are the ones who lifted me up into the realms of the great stories. I’m not sure whether I should thank you for that.”

Vax swallowed hard. “I’m sorry to have caused you trouble,” he whispered.

“You have always been trouble.”

Vax nearly flinched and looked up with deep trepidation lining his face. The look in Gilmore’s eyes was so gentle and caring he wanted to break down and cry. “But perhaps,” Gilmore murmured, “that is why I find it so hard to resist you.”

There was a moment, wrapped around them with wind and white stone and white noise, where they held their breath and hoped together for a future that wasn’t as bleak and bare as the stones upon which they stood. A moment that was not broken but eased from its throbbing intensity when Keyleth placed a gentle hand on Gilmore’s shoulder and her other on the small of Vax’s back. The three of them together leaned into the wind and remembered what it felt like to fly.

Gilmore shuddered, just a little, and smiled ruefully. “It’s cold up here,” he said, some of his usual vigor and joviality returning to his voice. “And there is much to do.”

Keyleth looked him over with pursed lips and a keen eye. “Have you eaten today, Gilmore?”

“I appreciate the gesture, Keyleth, but I _am_ a grown man.”

“You’re losing weight.”

“Heroes have to keep fit, don’t they?” He winked. Vax blushed. Keyleth shook her head and laughed. “But regardless,” Gilmore added, “if it will please you, I wouldn’t mind dining with you tonight. Circumstances being what they are, dinners here are more haphazard than grand, though.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Vax said, just as Keyleth smiled and said, “We would love to, Gilmore.”

Somehow as they made their way down the stairs—they wouldn’t fit three abreast, so they filed down with Gilmore in the lead and Keyleth at the rear—Vax found his hands tangling together with Gilmore’s and Keyleth’s. He had never felt more secure, more grounded, and yet he was sure his heart had swooped off into the sunset.

Dragons had come to Whitestone. It wasn’t quite inevitable, and Percy as well as the others had all taken steps to protect and defend the city, but they had all _hoped_ this would be over before the survivors eking out their desperate lives had to face the threat of destruction once again. Whitestone was just now beginning to heal from her grievous wounds at the hands of the Briarwoods; there was a cruel sense of injustice at the thought of her fields and walls and homes being razed by dragonbreath after all that had been done to resurrect her. And of course Vox Machina knew it, they could feel it in the fabric of the world: they were running out of time.

But even so—if they didn’t have time for the things worth saving, then there was no point to fighting at all. Vax could turn and walk straight into the arms of the Raven Queen right now, Gilmore could sail to his homeland and never return, Keyleth could find refuge with her people in the seas and attempt to restore her community there. They could survive. But it wouldn’t the best they could have had. It might suffice, but they would always know they could have had more.

They best they could have, all three of them, was in those clasped hands as they walked into the bustling, dimly lit common hall where platters of food were being tended across a line of trestle tables. The best they could have was in that slightly stale-smelling room, the odor of fear and toil overwhelmed by the scent of cooked onions and warmed wine. Unexpectedly, the best they could have crept up to them in ones and twos, and then more and more, to shake hands and nod and deliver a tearful thanks before settling down in the background with their families.

Gilmore looked over his shoulder at his companions, both of whom looked spooked at the number of people approaching and touching and crying. He gently steered them towards the trestle tables—“don’t get the pudding, trust me”—and stayed where he was, accepting the offerings of gratitude and hope, even though he as much as any of them felt undeserving of praise.

Vax and Keyleth gathered plates and goblets and wooden spoons, hastily carved by the looks of them, and dragged Gilmore to a somewhat secluded corner of the room. The crowd of well-wishers tapered off, respectfully leaving them to their dinner.

They talked, voices hushed and blurred into the general noise of the room. Mostly Keyleth talked; she shared stories of the Feywild, and the extraordinarily vivid dreams she had had while she was there. Vax stroked her hair back from her face when she got too excited and it nearly dipped down into her gravy. Once or twice he joined in with his own observations; he had very little to say about Syngorn, and while Keyleth described the beautiful carvings and haughty elves, Vax and Gilmore exchanged a steady look. Gilmore briefly leaned into Vax, a silent gesture of support, and they went on as though nothing had happened.

“I thought, after this,” Gilmore spoke as conversation fell into a lull, “that I might continue my research in the library.”

The half-elves stilled for a moment, confused and then comprehending.

“I’d love to learn more about the plants this far north,” Keyleth said slowly. She and Gilmore looked at Vax, always the one who struggled to sit still.

He shrugged with a crooked corner of a smile. “Been a while since I went over my tools,” he said. “They might have gotten rusty. All that time in bogs and swamps and whatnot.”

Vax took the plates back to the kitchen, and Keyleth and Gilmore loitered in the hall until he returned. It wasn’t intentional—but they just couldn’t go forward without him. Percy crossed their path at one point, giving Keyleth a distracted hug and Gilmore a thank you as quick as it was intense, but it seemed like everyone was retiring to their own respective corners to recuperate from the disaster that almost struck that day.

The library was _old_ , and much of it empty. Some of the old wooden bookcases were still full and nearly sagging with the weight of the bulging, dusty books, but there were clear signs of loss. The barren shelves stood out like black lines of scarred tissue. It occurred to Keyleth that Percy had probably lost a lot of his beloved books here; this was probably one of the most painful places in the castle for him. When all of this was over, she would see what she could do to help. Maybe there needed to be a book on the Ashari people, and maybe the first copy should be held in the Whitestone library.

“Some of it was being transferred to the new public library—” Gilmore shot Vax and Keyleth a mildly dark stare— “but those efforts were put on the hold, for the time being. Most of what is left here is documentation on the effects and uses of whitestone. If there are any books on botany, Keyleth, you might try in that direction.” He waved to a corner of the room near one of the large leaded windows as he made his way to a large table strewn with papers and open books and the nubs of used quills. Keyleth found her way to the suggested books and began her search; Vax dragged one of the velvet-backed chairs, its fabric flaking away from neglect, to the corner of Gilmore’s workplace and settled down, withdrawing from his belt a black leather pouch that clinked and clicked with small sounds of metal on metal. In the center of the room in a great hearth, a crackling fire flickered and leapt in the quiet, staving off the lingering chill of winter. Spring came but slowly to Whitestone.

“Hey Gil,” Vax said, his voice hushed. He’s always been intimidated by libraries. “Don’t work too hard, hm? You have to stop to rest.”

“As I said before, Vax, I’m a grown man and fully capable of caring for myself.” Without looking up from the books he was already immersed in, Gilmore slid his hand across the table, relaxed with the palm up and fingers half-curled. Vax dropped the picks he had been examining and pressed his hand into Gilmore’s. “But I thank you. I shall be certain to rest well tonight, knowing you have all returned safely.”

Quiet as cat’s paws, Keyleth came to the table with her own book. She sat on a mostly clear section of the table, legs crossed and book balanced in her lap. With her eyes downcast to the pages of the book, she reached out and lightly dropped her hand over Vax’s.

The three of them stayed that way, wrapped in the quiet and warmth, for hours.

**Author's Note:**

> They did mention that they were going to build a library in Whitestone in Gilmore's name, right??? I didn't make that up?? I can't find any references to it online and I failed to track it down in the videos!


End file.
